


Bullets in the Cookie Jar

by zetsubonna



Series: On Va Voir [16]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:46:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zetsubonna/pseuds/zetsubonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>skinny!steve/bucky where bucky was ALREADY the world's most deadly assassin before the war and he just returned home (and to steve) after a mission</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bullets in the Cookie Jar

Bucky took the gun out of his bag and checked it. He took the ammunition out, stuffed it in his spare shaving bag. The binoculars went under the loose floorboard, the money into the cookie jar on top of the fridge.

Bucky had a sweet tooth. Steve had to watch his sugar. It was a good hiding spot.

The fridge was an indulgence, and it had nearly given him away when Steve had moved in. Tenements, obviously, didn’t supply fridges to individual apartments, and it had been a pain in the ass to get electricity approved for this one, but an extra five dollars a month to the landlord and he looked the other way.

"Buck," Steve had asked. "How did you get this?"

"Used," Bucky had lied. "Anyway, it’s handy. Pour me some orange juice, wouldja?"

He still went out every day. The grocer’s, the mechanic, wherever he had to. Not because he needed the money or the hours- he didn’t- but because Steve was fucking observant and smart and would eventually figure out he was supplementing their income if he didn’t look like he was working all the time.

Sometimes Bucky would come home early and sit on the roof with a camera Steve didn’t know he had bought back from the pawn shop half a dozen jobs ago, taking in the cityscape. He developed the photos in the room he rented in the basement of a house in another neighborhood. Couldn’t rent a second place here. The neighbors would notice and word would get back to Steve.

Bucky was comfortable. More than comfortable. He didn’t exactly  _like_  his job, but he was good at it, and it paid all the damn bills, more bills than Steve ever realized. Sarah’s money had gone almost entirely to her own health. Steve’s medicine, Steve’s clothes, his tuition to the parish school- Bucky’d been picking them up since he was seventeen. Mrs. Rogers never said a word. She’d known how Bucky felt about Steve since the minute they met, even though Bucky still had never told Steve himself.

"Buck?" Steve was home from class.

Bucky checked his reflection in the mirror. He looked three times as bone tired as he felt.

"I’m back."

"How was Indiana?"

"Fucking corn everywhere," Bucky sighed. It was equally true of the part of Mexico where he had actually been. "Mail?"

"Yeah," Steve’s hand was shaking on the envelope. He wouldn’t meet Bucky’s eyes. "Um-"

 _Fuck_.

Bucky sat down hard. He almost started to laugh. It would have been funny, if it weren’t so goddamn inconvenient.

The world’s best assassin, drafted to serve in the US Army. Wasn’t that a kick in the head?


End file.
